Disclosure: never have I won a best dressed award, never do I want to win a best dressed award (these days at least). This isn’t something I’ve previously thought through too much, but after attending yet another event with this all-glamorous award, it got me thinking, ranting, conceptualising.
I’d be lying if I denied that years ago I would have loved to win this prize – being a fashion lover it was my goal, a notch in the belt, to stand out and be rewarded for what I deemed wearable. Now I am a bit more sceptical. And the wardrobe is limited, let’s not forget.
Who actually decides the glorious winner? Who, other than the world’s most prestigious fashion designers or gurus has the overriding authority to deem one’s outfit the BEST. I don’t see that many of them at these events, and to be honest, I would still be a sceptic – because of course we all have our own opinions, which this is also. From my experience, it is normally the host of the evening as the decider, always looking beautiful and causing pangs of jealousy, but who knows the level of their fashion knowledge or appreciation.
Then we come to the whole conceptual idea of fashion, time to space out and get the peace signs flying. What does best dressed even mean? The winner always seems to have stolen a designer outfit straight off the rack, with little individual styling, originality, or fun. The Kardashians are wearing lace bustiers, so we wear lace bustiers, and we win. David Jones’ mannequin wore that Bec and Bridge dress, so we wear it also – devoid of emotion and uniqueness without a bit of jazzing and personality.
I vote that true dressing comes from one showing their personal style, making an outfit their own – mixing and matching designer with vintage and bargain. The best street style = quirk, the best dressed should equal the same.
Give me some J.W. Anderson puffs and ruffles, prints and chokers any day. Then make it your own.
(Images from here)